


damn clichés

by jecca-o9 (talkplaylove)



Category: EXO (Band), SHINee
Genre: M/M, Minho and Onew are characters in Yixing's book, Minor Choi Minho/Lee Jinki, Pre-Slash, Writer Zhang Yixing, Zhang Yi Xing | Lay-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:07:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26606485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkplaylove/pseuds/jecca-o9
Summary: Yixing doesn't believe in meet-cutes.
Relationships: Oh Sehun/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay
Kudos: 17





	damn clichés

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a pinch-hit for justgetlayd Round 2 [2014], while I was waiting to board a flight.  
> Prompt: Onew/Minho (from [Team 11's Bingo Card](https://justgetlayd.livejournal.com/43001.html))
> 
> still moving fics from lj to here o/

_Lee Jinki stumbled onto the love of his life. Literally._

_It was a cold winter morning, light snow dusting his window. He had woken up late and was rushing to get to work, re-reading his history paper in one hand. Nobody said the life of a working student was easy. He’d been in the middle of /insert some witty century quip here/ when he felt something push against him, and the next thing he knew, he was sprawled on his butt in the snow, his books on the ground, someone else sprawled across from him._

_"Sorry," Jinki says, automatically. He grabs his books before water soaks through them completely. The trouser-clad legs across him move as the man sits up, muscled arms clad in a white polo shirt, neck in a thick red scarf, and gorgeous wide eyes—and who the fuck wears only a polo shirt in winter—_

Yixing snorted as he typed the scene on his desktop screen. As if that kind of meet-cute happened in real life. He felt the wheels of Jongdae's chair move before he heard him, the wheels making indents on the floor. He minimized the Google drive document on his aged desktop.

"What are you doing?" Jongdae asked, because Jongdae likes knowing everything. Yixing still hasn't figured out if Jongdae plans to use his knowledge for nefarious purposes. 

(He probably will).

"Nothing," Yixing said smoothly, smiling at Jongdae. The smile, the one that fools people. The one that says 'I'm cute and innocent and I definitely do not write gay fiction under a pseudonym in my spare time'. "Watching cat videos."

"Ooh have you seen the one where it's wearing a top hat and dances with a baby? It's totally awesome." And just like that, Jongdae was diverted, dragging Yixing's chair over to his cubicle to watch cat videos. 

Yixing let himself be distracted by cats than focus on the improbability of meeting the love of your life in a clichéd meet cute. 

\---

_Minho. His name is Minho and he's got the reddest lips Jinki has ever seen. He blinked, dazed, as Minho towered over him, hand pressed against the wall next to Jinki's head._

_"I said I'd like some water, hyung," a smirk. "If you don't mind."_

_Jinki felt like melting into a puddle. "Right."_

_It is, of course, his luck that the Choi Minho, the very same one he'd run into the street this morning, was the model for the shoot he's assisting. Of course._

Yixing made a face at his laptop. It’s cliché, but cliché is what his publishing company wants and Yixing needs to make a living. Working at a magazine is stressful and the pay is not that great, despite what the U.S. media like to portray (or maybe they do get paid a lot for writing in Europe or North America, Yixing doesn’t really know). Getting to write what you want is a myth, unless he’s Stephen King or Neil Gaiman or J.K. Rowling—and he knows they’ve all been here, which is exactly why he’s doing it. One day, someone will pick up his magnum opus and it will be a hit.

If Yixing ever got around to writing it, that is. 

Yixing looked up from his screen, scanning the familiar coffee shop for inspiration. Chanyeol, the barista, was looking past him, making moony eyes. Yixing took a peek behind him and saw a guy with winged eyeliner chattering away on Facetime. 

Jongdae slid into his booth smoothly. "What are you doing?"

"You."

"Well, let's get going then!" Jongdae doesn't miss a beat.

Yixing rolled his eyes and tosses a paper napkin at him. Yixing wished he could write like that, sharp and witty.

\--

_"Hi," a man with a wide eyes and a wicked cat-caught-the-canary smile looked up at him. "Do you believe in love at first sight?"_

_Jinki's mouth dropped open. A reply on the tip of his tongue, an equally corny 'No, but I think you should walk by again.', when he felt a looming presence step up next to him, pressing against his side._

_"Hyung, did you wait long?" Minho asked, looking at him with those deep brown eyes._

_Jinki's eyebrows draw down in confusion because he hadn't any plans to meet Minho, and yet Minho's acting like they do, one hand slowly curling around his elbow and leading him away from the good looking stranger kdgkklsmkej_

Yixing's looked up as his table shook. 

"I'm sorry!" A mop of rainbow muttered—IS THAT HAIR—YES IT IS—gingerly moving his foot away from where it hit the table leg. Yixing was about to tell the stranger it was all right when he felt his throat dry up.

Rainbowhead was extraordinarily tall, with an interesting face - dead fish eyes and pale skin - that somehow all ended up looking attractive together.

"It's okay," Yixing managed. Rainbowhead blushed, apologized again, and walked to the counter.

Yixing tried to concentrate on his work and not stare at Rainbowhead, not type him amidst the quaint coffee shop setting. 

Five minutes later, a steaming mug was set in front of him. He frowned, not having ordered anything, when he sees a note scribbled on a tissue underneath the coffee saucer.

An apology, an emoticon, a subtle 'I know a great hidden cafe, maybe you'd like to try it there with me some time', a cell number, a name. 

Oh Sehun. 

It's a statistical improbability to meet the love of your life in a meet-cute. It's a damn cliché.

Yixing looked at the number on the tissue, one, two, three seconds before folding it and keeping it in his pocket, grinning.

But hey, that's why clichés exist right?


End file.
